A Boy and His Sword
by Trooper1023
Summary: This is going to be a looooong story. It will span many Anime universes. But for now... just two.


A Boy and His Sword:  
"Between Arms-Masters and Man-Slayers"  
  
Anime self-insertion by Trooper1023, a.k.a. "Ben"  
  
Disclaimer: All characters and concepts in this story are owned and copyrighted   
by their respective creators. They aren't mine. I'm just barrowing them for this   
story.  
  
This is the first of a series of inter-related one-shots.  
________________________________________________________________________________  
  
--Act 1, Scene 1-- Earth: Mid-town Manhattan, New York City...  
  
Ben walked up 8th Avenue. He'd come here to say farewell to his sensei Rico Guy,   
as well as the others he had trained with at Guy's Japanese Martial Arts Dojo   
over the last three years. Ben was just past his eighteenth birthday, and he was   
leaving for collage in a few days. He was done with his goodbyes, and it was   
time to go home.  
  
He flicked a lock of medium brown hair away of eyes the same color as he crossed   
the darkened street. He was dressed in a pair of tan cargo pants clinched with a   
woven leather belt, a black 'Bust Mine To Kick Yours' t-shirt, a gray sweat-  
jacket, and gray sneakers. Ben's brown hair, while short on the front and sides,   
was shoulder-length in the back, or would have been if not held in a simple tail   
at the nape of his neck. Slung over Ben's shoulder and hidden inside a long   
vinyl bag was the result of his latest endeavor, a metal-shop class run by two   
Japanese brothers, descendents of a well-known family of metal smiths.  
  
It was just past eleven o'clock, and he was in a quiet area of the city. Low-  
rise buildings crouched above the sidewalks, quiet from the lack of activity in   
them. A few pigeons fluttered about, and a cat or some other small animal made a   
rustling in a few bushes.  
  
Ben moved with a slow but purposeful stride. The subway station was another two   
blocks east, on 6th. It wasn't that far. Ben had lived in New York City all his   
life, and knew it like the back of his hand. Despite the myths, the streets   
weren't as dangerous as movies and television portrayed them to be.  
  
A scream echoed between the buildings, painfully loud and obviously nearby.  
  
Ben's head came up. *That sounds... interesting.* Even though the streets   
weren't as dangerous as they were portrayed, they were still dangerous.  
  
Nasty laughter accompanied another scream. This time Ben managed to locate the   
point of origin, an alleyway about twenty meters ahead of him. An odd feeling   
came over Ben. *Hmm... To play hero, or not to play hero. Tough choice. Well,   
I'm feeling lucky tonight, so I guess I'll play hero,* he thought, breaking into   
a run toward the alley.  
________________________________________________________________________________  
  
--Act 1, Scene 2-- The alleyway...  
  
Four crummy-looking street punks had accosted a businesswoman in her late   
twenties, forced her into the alleyway, and were surrounding her. One punk was   
off to the side, going through the woman's purse. He pulled out a bunch of bills   
to pocket them for later.  
  
~THWAK~ The punk dropped to the ground, out cold. His three friends heard the   
noise and turned. Ben stepped out of the shadows and flipped his weapon from his   
right hand to his left and shoved it through his belt. With his left hand he   
pulled the canvas bag of his back and tossed it off to one side. "Leave the lady   
alone. She's not a play-toy, ya know."  
  
The biggest of the punks, not just taller than the others but heavier as well,   
stepped forward with a smirk on his face. "Weel, if it ain't da knight in   
shinin' armor, here ta save de girl. Heh, check dis guy out boyz, he's even   
gotta sword!" The other two punks snickered and let go of the woman, dropping   
her to the ground on her butt. The first punk grabbed a steel bat from where it   
was resting against the alley wall, while the other two pulled out what looked   
like utility knives modified with larger blades. They moved to surround Ben.  
  
The shortest of the toughs, his head a mop of messy black hair, cut the air with   
his knife a few times. "Boss, whadda ya wanna do wit' dis guy, huh? Beat 'em up,   
cut 'im, what?"  
  
"H'bout we do all dat?" 'Boss' hit his left hand with the bat a few times, then   
raised the bat and advanced on Ben, yelling, "Com'on mista knight! Lets see   
what'cha got!"  
  
Ben parried the punk's swing in the same motion he drew his weapon, then   
reversed the motion and slapped the punk in his face with the flat of his blade.   
'Boss' stumbled backward and almost tripped over a garbage can. "Ya piece'a   
shit! Boyz, get 'im!"  
  
The other two punks swore aloud. "But Boss, he's gotta real fuckin' sword! I   
ain't gonna mess wit' him if he can really use dat thing!" yelled the third   
punk, a blonde. The black-hair tough just shook his head, now as reluctant to   
fight as his blonde friend.  
  
"Ya goddamn wimps! Jus' do it!" screamed 'Boss' as he started advancing on Ben   
again.  
  
Ben took a step back and tightened his stance. *Either this guy is a total idiot   
or he's planning something.* He narrowed his eyes...  
  
...Which flew wide open when the woman suddenly screamed "LOOK OUT BEHIND YOU!!"  
  
"Wha-UGH!"  
  
The fourth punk was awake and up again. He snuck up behind the unsuspecting Ben   
and grabbed him in a double arm-lock, pinning his arms out horizontally. "Yur   
gonna pay for knockin' me down!" the punk growled. Ben kept a solid grip on his   
weapon, knowing that even though he couldn't use it now, he'd need it once he   
was free again.  
  
'Boss' grinned nastily. "Did good, Terry! Now we got'im!"  
  
The black-haired punk grinned too. "Heh, I was almost scared fa a moment there."  
  
Ben tried to free himself, but the punks didn't want to give him the chance and   
rushed at him. Ben swore and kicked out at the closest tough, sending the black-  
haired one sprawling onto his back.  
  
The blonde yelled, "You fucker! Tha's my best friend!" and started swinging his   
knife wildly, forcing 'Boss' to back up, cursing all the while. Ben saw it as   
well and knew he was in trouble. Then his captor stumbled slightly, and Ben   
leaned away from the attack, pushing his weight into it. 'Terry' was forced to   
back up, and a cut that would have opened Ben's throat missed instead. The angry   
blonde kept coming, however. The woman gasped and nearly fainted as the blonde   
punk's knife opened a long cut on Ben's face.  
  
Ben cried out in pain for a moment, then stopped abruptly as his view seemed   
to... shift... to someplace else entirely. *Hey... This is a traditional   
Japanese dojo. How'd I get--* The pain from the cut vanished, and a new pain   
exploded in his neck.  
  
*What the?!* Ben's hands came up to pull on the... jacket?... that was about to   
break his neck, but he hadn't moved them, had he? Ben suddenly realized that his   
feet were off the ground. Again, his left hand moved without his intent, coming   
down to hit the front of the sheath stuck through his belt. He felt the sheath   
rotate, the back end coming upward behind him to connect solidly with...   
someone's chin? *How'd I know that!? What the hell is going on here?!* The   
jacket loosened its hold on Ben's neck and he found himself moving again,   
touching the ground before doing a standing jump that covered an impossible two   
meters. *H-how'd I do that!?!* Ben found himself turning in mid-air and touching   
down to face a startlingly tall Asian man wearing a dark blue uniform of some   
kind, but he couldn't make out any more of the other man's features before his   
view shifted again... returning to his original predicament in the alleyway.   
*What was--*  
  
The pain from the cut on his face returned, reminding Ben of more important   
things. The blonde was still swinging wildly, but now his movements almost   
seemed... slower... And 'Terry' was still off balance! Acting quickly, Ben dug   
his heels into the ground and forced his captor to give even more ground. The   
blonde also stumbled, from the sudden distance between him and Ben. Leaving Ben   
a few seconds to free himself...  
  
Suddenly Ben realized that he could still reach the sheath he'd stuck into his   
belt, and while he couldn't draw it, he could make it shift... *That's it!* he   
cried mentally. Ben brought his left hand inward then swung it down, hitting the   
sheath and causing it to rotate, just like in the 'vision' from before. The back   
end swung up and struck Ben's captor in the left armpit.  
  
"AH! Fuck!" cried 'Terry', clutching his underarm in pain. Now free, Ben brought   
his weapon back to guard position...  
  
The blonde punk lunged at Ben knife first, but Ben simply sidestepped the lunge,   
spinning on one foot and twisted his torso like a spring being tightened. As the   
punk stumbled past, Ben released the 'spring', his torso whipping around and   
sending his weapon flashing around him in an arc, up into the back of the   
blonde's skull. The imparted momentum sent the blonde slamming face-first into a   
wall, where he slumped down into unconsciousness. Continuing to spin, Ben   
smoothly lashed out at 'Terry' with a blow across the face, sending him spinning   
to the ground unconscious as well. Then 'Boss' charged, swinging his bat. Deftly   
deflecting the bat with the upswing of his slightly curved blade, Ben broke the   
punk's collarbone on the downswing. 'Boss' crumpled to the floor of the alley in   
front of the woman. The black-haired tough saw all this, dropped his knife, and   
fled the alley. Somewhere along the way the punk also wet his pants.  
  
It was six seconds from when Ben freed himself to when the last punk fled.  
  
The woman, still sitting against the alley wall, gaped in astonishment. She   
looked at the young man who had aided her and suddenly felt very cold. There was   
a hard look in his eyes as he glared at the prone bodies of the punks. It   
frightened her. The woman moved her gaze to the weapon he used. It was a sword,   
though in the low light, she could barely make out its blunt forward edge. The   
woman gasped as she realized that, had the forward edge of that sword been   
sharp, the young man using it would have killed each punk he hit. "I-I think   
I'll g-go now," the woman stuttered. "T-thank y-you young m-man." She grabbed   
her dropped purse and fled the alleyway.  
  
The woman's movement and voice pulled Ben's attention away from the punks. "Hey,   
lady! You okay?" The woman just kept running. *Why is she running? I'm not going   
to hurt her, not like these punks--* Ben's eyes suddenly popped wide open, and   
he whirled to look at the downed punks. Images of the final seconds of the fight   
flashed through Ben's mind. *What the fuck!?! I... I was... brutal! I mowed   
those punks down like... like...* He stared at his weapon, still held in his   
right hand. *If... if this had been a katana... I would've... I would've killed   
those punks!* "An' I'm supposed to be a martial artist! Not a fuckin' murderer!   
What the hell is going on here!?" Ben cried out.  
  
"You have been chosen," said a new voice from out of the dark.  
  
Ben whirled, automatically bringing his sakabatou up into guard position.   
"Chosen!? For what?! What are'ya talking about!? Show yourself!"  
  
"I am talking about you, warrior. Destiny has chosen you for a role that has   
gone unfilled for too long. And no, I'm not going to show myself." The voice...   
giggled?  
  
"You afraid of me or something? Why not!? And 'chosen' for what, damnit!" Ben   
yelled, shifting his gaze left and right in search of the source of the voice.  
  
"No... You just don't need to know who I am. Oh my, it seems it is that time   
already." Ben started to get nervous, wondering if maybe he should make a break   
for it himself. The alleyway began to brighten rapidly. Ben felt an odd   
sensation of... something... as the light became blinding. Then he began to feel   
consciousness slip away from him.  
  
Just as Ben blacked out completely, the voice said something he couldn't quite   
make out...  
________________________________________________________________________________  
  
--Act 2, Scene 1-- Unknown...  
  
"Ugh..." Ben forced his eyelids open, unleashing a fierce pounding on the inside   
of his head as his eyes tried to adjust to the ambient light. Slowly the world   
came into focus. "What the heck?"  
  
Startled, Ben sat up, only to bang his head on something and flop back down on   
his back. He uttered a soft exclamation and put a hand over the bump that was   
rapidly forming. Ben tried sitting up again, slower this second time. Reaching   
out with his other hand, he grabbed the offending object and steadied himself.   
*That was NOT pleasant. Damn tree branch... wait a second! Tree branch?!?* Ben's   
head snapped up and he looked around. He WAS in a forest!  
  
"What's going on here?!" he growled irritably to himself. *The last thing I   
remember... is the fight in the alley... the woman, the punks, the vision...   
beating the punks down brutally... then the voice... that voice... and the   
light... What did the voice say last? 'Good luck', and then... what was it? Ba-  
something? Yeah. It definitely started with a 'ba'. Whatever, it's probably not   
that important.*  
  
Ben stood up and checked himself over. *Well, my cloths are still on me, and   
I've got my wallet. Not that it'll do me much good if I'm deep in a forest. And   
my sakabatou's here too, even better.* Quickly he unsheathed his weapon,   
checking it for damage; there was none. Ben deftly sheathed the sword again,   
blinking at how natural the motion was. After a moment he shrugged it off as   
something he just hadn't noticed until now. After all, hadn't he practiced hard   
at every bi-weekly Iaido class for three years?  
  
Ben turned in a slow circle, now carefully taking in his surroundings. *Now   
what? I have absolutely no idea where I am, so which way should I go? Heck, does   
it matter?* Ben picked a direction and started trudging through the underbrush.  
  
Four hours later, Ben nearly lost his footing as he stumbled out into a clearing   
of well-worn dirt... *No, it's a road! Not paved... but a road none the less.*   
"All right! I'm not completely lost anymore! Now, which way to go from HERE..."   
Ben's voice trailed off. Then he shrugged, picked a direction again and set   
off... not realizing that he was being guided from within.  
________________________________________________________________________________  
  
--Act 2, Scene 2-- Two weeks later, along the same road...  
  
~tp-tp-tp-tp-tp-tp~ "Hah!" ~sshhht~  
~tp-tp-tp-tp-tp-tp~ "Hah!" ~sshhht~  
~tp-tp-tp-tp-tp-tp~ "Hah!" ~sshhht~ ~tp~ "Hah!" ~sshhht~ ~tp~ "Hah!" ~sshhht~  
~tp-tp-tp-tp-tp-TP~ "Haaaaaaah-" ~sshhht~ ~tp-tsshh~ "-YAH!" ~whhmp-THUD~  
  
Running at a respectable clip, Ben cut the air once, then again, then three   
times in quick succession. He followed through with a leaping downward slice.   
Sliding a short distance on one foot, Ben spun and lashed out with the other   
foot at a nearby tree.  
  
Connecting solidly, Ben paused for a split-second. Then he leaned toward the   
tree and bunched both legs. First launching himself up a half-meter into the air   
with one leg, Ben then straightened his other leg, pushing off the tree into a   
backflip. He touched down in a ready stance about a meter from where he was a   
second ago.  
  
Ben stood there motionless for a long minute, his breathing slowing and   
deepening, sweat slicking his skin and dampening his cloths. Finally he   
straightened up, flicking his weapon once before sheathing it. Shaking out   
various sore muscles, Ben looked up at the sky. *Hm, the sun's starting to go   
down. I've got about an hour and a half until nightfall. Better catch some   
dinner and find some firewood.*  
  
It was then that Ben realized that he was at a split in the road. Upon   
inspecting the sign placed at the center of the split, Ben found that the places   
named on the sign were totally unknown to him, yet they were written in English.   
*I know Geography's not my best subject, but come on! These names aren't even   
half-familiar!* He puzzled over the sign for a bit, before noticing something   
else. *Hey, the distance are all marked in days... Wait-a-sec! DAYS?!* Ben's   
eyes widened. *That's how distances were marked on wagon trails back in   
nineteenth-century America! What the fuck!?!* He puzzled over the significance   
of this newest development from a few more minutes.  
  
Eventually he gave up and decided to spend the night there. Stepping off the   
road, Ben made sure to fix his path in his mind, using knowledge gained from   
summers of his early youth spent in the Boy Scouts...  
  
Some time later...  
  
Ben sat in front of a small fire he had built near the sign. Over the fire a   
pair of rabbits slowly cooked. Behind Ben, the sun slowly began to set. His eyes   
had a far-away look to them...  
  
*Two weeks... Two weeks on the road, by myself, with nothing to do but practice   
my martial arts. Now I'm pulling off front and back flips easily.* Poking one of   
the spitted rabbits, Ben saw that it wasn't quite cooked all the way through.   
*My standing-jump height has increased to just over my own. My stamina is up to   
the point where I can run hard for a good hour before tiring. And ALL my Iaido   
cuts are faster, my kata are flowing better and more 'as one thinking', as are   
my stances. Even my Kempo strikes are smoother... All from two weeks of daily,   
continuous training.*  
  
Ben snorted abruptly. *Ha! This is SO wrong, it's funny.* He checked the other   
rabbit, saw it was done, pulled it off the fire, and started eating. Or rather,   
tried to. "Ahh!! Fuck, that's hot!" Ben nearly dropped the skewered rabbit, but   
managed to hold onto it without burning his hands. *Ya'd think that after two   
weeks of this kind of stuff, I'd have gotten to the point where I wouldn't be   
burning my hands on it. Then again, I DIDN'T burn my hands this time, did I...*   
After another minute it had cooled enough to eat. Only then did Ben resume his   
internal musing. *Only an Anime character could possibly improve this fast!...   
Speaking of Anime--* Ben frowned between bites. *--What the hell is up with that   
vision I had in the alleyway?!*  
  
A week prior, a connection had finally clicked into place in Ben's mind. *I   
still can't believe I had a daydream about a scene from 'Rurouni Kenshin' in   
the middle of a fight! From Kenshin's prespective no less!! That vision was like   
a live-action version of Kenshin's first fight with Saito, shot from Kenshin's   
eyes.* After picking the last pieces of eatable meat from the carcass, Ben got   
up and tossed it deep into the woods. Sitting back down beside the fire, Ben   
absently rubbed the thin scar that now marked the left side of his face,   
starting under the outside corner of his left eye and stretching down across the   
cheekbone to just under the corner of his mouth. The knife cut had been healed   
the hard way, naturally, and thus left a dark reminder of its infliction on   
Ben's face. He reached for the second rabbit, being a bit more careful this   
time.  
  
*And then I just had to go and play along! Not only did I copy that saya-jutsu   
which Kenshin used to knock Saito off him, I went and pulled off a Ryu Kan Sen!   
Now I know I'm an Anime otaku, but this is ridiculous!*  
  
Suddenly Ben's eyes bugged out rather dramatically. "And since when do I use   
meaningful Japanese in my thoughts?!?" he yelped and clutched his head in his   
hands. "AAARRGGHHH!!"  
  
  
(INCOMPLETE)  
The End... or is it?  
________________________________________________________________________________  
  
Author's notes:  
This fic was inspired by Carrot Glace's "Gaijin". Whadda'ya think?  
  
"Ben" (me) is now "Ken". Go figure.  
  
Incomplete as of: 8/1/02 


End file.
